


Duress

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Consent Play, Crowley's Ridiculously Circuitous Plan, Dirty Talk, Drunken Confessions, Evil Demon/Captive Angel Roleplay, Facials, Hell, Kink Negotiation, Light Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Sexual Roleplay, Ownership, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: There's a minor invasion, and Aziraphale learns some things about himself that he didn't need to know.





	Duress

One of the bigger reasons why Crowley hated the fourteenth century was that, in the fourteenth century, Hell invaded Earth.

Aziraphale got captured fifteen minutes in. He was minding his own business, eating a rather decent little marzipan cake, when he heard Crowley say from behind him, "Sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Then Crowley's arms were around him, which was nice, and then he was in Hell, which wasn't. 

Aziraphale lost sight of Crowley almost immediately; he didn't dare call out to find him, not knowing what kind of danger that would put both of them in. He was herded into a dank, crowded room, surprised to find several other angels in it. All of them looked to be battered, while Aziraphale himself was mostly just confused.

"What happened?" Aziraphale asked, to the room at large.

"We were doing some blessings when we were ambushed," Theliel said. "It looked like they were about to set upon the humans, but I was down before that happened." He looked Aziraphale over, frowning. "What about you?"

"Oh, I just got kidnapped," Aziraphale said, suddenly self-conscious about how dirty he wasn't.

Theliel was about to say something else, but he was suddenly dragged out. Aziraphale braced himself to hear a scream, a fight, anything, but no sound from the next room made it in. Aziraphale didn't know whether that was a blessing or too cruel for words.

The door opened again, and Aziraphale was grabbed this time, pulled through the same door. He realized he was in some kind of courtroom, facing a whole pack of snarling demons. Aziraphale was powerful, but he was not powerful enough to go through all of them, especially not without being discorporated. He had _no_ idea what would happen if he discorporated in Hell, and he did _not_ want to find out.

One of the demons seemed to be in charge, the judge perhaps; he held up a scroll, reading from it. "The lesser principality Aziraphale-"

"What do you mean, lesser?" Aziraphale said indignantly.

"-is judged by this court as being an angel and refusing to submit to Hell's lawful incursion," he continued, unfazed. "We will now conduct him to-"

"A word, if I may be so bold?" Crowley said from the shadows, not that it wasn't all shadows. Aziraphale's heart flipped; surely Crowley was here to help him, but Crowley was also the one who brought him to Hell. He better have a damned solid plan, if he knew what was good for him.

"Yes, Crawly?" the demon judge said.

"It's Crowley," Crowley said. "I'm invoking my right as a party wronged by this angel to choose his sentence."

The demon raised an eyebrow. "How has he wronged you?"

"Well, for starters, he armed Adam and Eve, and we all saw how that turned out," Crowley said, and there was a murmur. "He always turns up early to things and then says _I'm_ late, and he tried to tempt me, completely disregarding the separation of Heaven and Hell."

"What sentence do you suggest?" the demon asked.

"Servitude," he said, like he was enjoying the word. He smirked. "Under me."

"This court places the angel Aziraphale under the dominion of the demon Crawly until such a time as Crawly withdraws his claim, upon which the principality will be executed," the demon said, with a wave of his hand and an air like Aziraphale's fate didn't matter so long as it was no longer weighing down his docket. "Next case."

Aziraphale was left stammering as Crowley came over and dragged him roughly away, out into the river of demons shuffling through Hell.

"If you just be cool, we can get through this," Crowley said under his breath; he was gripping Aziraphale's arm so tightly that it hurt.

"Me?" Aziraphale hissed indignantly. "You kidnapped me and brought me to Hell!"

Crowley looked around, pulling Aziraphale into an alcove, away from the crush. "I kidnapped you because they targeted the Earthly angels first, and you were on the list," he said, quiet and urgent. "Do you think they don't know the name of the Angel of the Eastern Gate around here? Hell's too busy to watch the movements of a million opponents, but they have a long memory. Someone was going to get you, and it was all going to be much smoother if it was me."

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "I can handle being discorporated."

"Oh, angel," Crowley said, looking disappointed. 

"What?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Let's assume for a moment the first step wasn't Hellfire," Crowley said, and Aziraphale swallowed. "An angel is the ultimate status symbol. Demons fight tooth and nail to claim them on the rare occasion one gets captured or Falls. You don't need to know what they'd do to you once they had you. _I_ don't even like knowing about it, and I'm a demon."

"But if I stay with you, you really think you can fight them off?" Aziraphale asked skeptically, trying to act like his heart wasn't racing.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I know you think I'm sexy-"

"Excuse me?"

"-but a bit of a soft touch, but if I need to defend what's mine, I'm going to do it," Crowley said. "As long as you stay under my protection, you'll be okay." He looked Aziraphale up and down with a critical eye. "You're going to have to sell it, but we'll work on it."

"For how long?" Aziraphale asked.

"Ah," Crowley said, looking away from him. "Some time between tomorrow afternoon and eternity."

"Eternity?!" Aziraphale yelped.

"Keep your voice down," Crowley hissed. "Nobody knows how this is going to end. Fucking Gabriel hasn't moved against Hell yet. It's not even clear if the man downstairs knows about any of this."

"What's going to happen if he finds out?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head. "You and me are going to be long gone by then."

"Are you proposing we just break out of Hell?" Aziraphale asked incredulously.

"Yes," Crowley said. "That is exactly what I am proposing." He looked around. "Just stay close to me. Don't walk in front of me, but I'm going to try to keep my hands on you as much as possible, just in case. And, ah, you're going to need to use the correct address."

"Which is?" Aziraphale said, not thinking about Crowley's hands on him.

"For you to me, 'Master Crowley,'" Crowley said. "We'll also accept 'my lord' or 'my master' or 'your disgrace,' just something in that general area."

"That's absurd," Aziraphale said, making a face.

"We can work the disobedience angle if you want, but I don't recommend it," Crowley said. He looked stricken. "If you don't behave, I'm going to have to hurt you. A lot. I really, really don't want to do that, and you don't want it either. Trust me."

Aziraphale felt deeply conflicted; the thought of playing along, of having all of Hell thinking he'd roll right over, turned his stomach. But the idea of getting hurt also wasn't appealing, and somehow making Crowley do it just because Aziraphale wouldn't play the game felt worse.

"I suppose I can go along with it, as long as we plan to escape right away," Aziraphale said.

Crowley looked immensely relieved. "There's a convocation to choose who's going up next. You're going to come with me, and we're going to do whatever it takes to get sent with them."

"Then we abscond?" Aziraphale said.

"Absolutely," Crowley said. "Your side will think you've been captured, I'll make it so my side will think I've been wounded and couldn't heal myself. By the time they figure it out, we'll be halfway to wherever we're going."

"And where is that?" Aziraphale asked.

"Away," Crowley said. He put his hand firmly on Aziraphale's backside, and Aziraphale nearly demanded to know what he was doing before he remembered. "Now come on."

Aziraphale looked straight ahead as Crowley led him along, taking him upstream against the demonic shambling and into what appeared to be some sort of briefing area. There was one pool of light in the center of the dim, oppressively hot room, with various scattered pieces of furniture and crates being sat upon by demons.

Crowley sauntered over to a spot in the first row. He put a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, shoving; Aziraphale wasn't sure what he meant for a moment, then he didn't want to do it just because it meant way too much of his clothing being on the floor of Hell.

"Do you need to be reminded of your place again?" Crowley said coldly, loud enough to be heard.

"No," Aziraphale said, sinking to his knees, though he couldn't bring himself to use any of the suggested honorifics. "I'll do as you say."

"You better," Crowley said, sitting down behind him, and he was ignoring everyone else so hard and so performatively that Aziraphale swore he could hear it.

Aziraphale was cognizant of the fact that he was the only bright spot in the room, both his clothing and his hair still moderately clean and white. He stood out like a sore thumb, and he was starting to wish he'd had Crowley miracle him into something more fitting for his role, or at least something black.

He was also cognizant of all the eyes on him, staring at him with open disdain, open lust, open hunger. It made Aziraphale want to curl in on himself, discorporate right there so that he didn't have to deal with any of it physically. He couldn't, so he moved closer to Crowley. Crowley had positioned Aziraphale in between his spread legs, which made Aziraphale feel more protected somehow. Crowley seemed to notice at least some of Aziraphale's distress, closing his legs a fraction so that Aziraphale was less exposed.

Another demon- they all ran together for Aziraphale- stood up to discuss the plan of action. Aziraphale committed it to memory as best he could, hoping to bring something useful back from this, but he said nothing; Crowley would have to do all the talking. Crowley would have to carry them through this, and Aziraphale hoped it would be fast.

While they listened, Crowley stroked Aziraphale's hair lazily, like you might a cat that fell asleep in your lap while you read a book; even without seeing him, Aziraphale could feel the possession in it, Crowley's casual ownership reinforced with a seemingly mindless gesture. Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley's thigh, needing the connection. Let Hell interpret that however they wanted to.

"I'll head up the second division," Crowley put in, at the appropriate moment. There was muttering, but that wasn't the type of thing to faze Crowley. "Look, I know what I'm doing." His hand settled on Aziraphale's shoulder. "I also have a line on some inside information."

The focus of the crowd had drifted away from Aziraphale, but it snapped back to him, in full force again all of a sudden. Aziraphale shifted closer to Crowley and tried not to second-guess himself about it.

"Alright," the strategist demon said. "You're going to come in from the west, and make as much noise as possible."

"Loud I can always do," Crowley said, in that smooth, "you can trust your old pal Crowley" voice that he had. It no longer worked on Aziraphale, but it seemed to placate the other demons.

The important thing, and maybe the only thing Aziraphale gathered by the time the meeting broke up, was that he and Crowley were being dispatched back to Earth. He'd never felt a relief like it before; this place was sapping him at every turn, and he could feel himself getting dingier and more grimy with every passing second.

Crowley helped him to his feet, but almost immediately there was a demon in his face, a new one, one that Aziraphale judged to look particularly nasty. 

"That's a tasty little snack," the demon said, and Aziraphale could feel his gaze, oily against his skin.

Crowley, to Aziraphale's great displeasure, did not push Aziraphale behind him. Instead, he pushed Aziraphale in front of him. Before Aziraphale could bolt, Crowley snaked his arms around Aziraphale's body, one of his hands encircling Aziraphale's throat. Aziraphale's heart beat harder than he'd ever felt it, and he tried not to discorporate where he stood.

Crowley licked a hot, wet stripe up his neck, and Aziraphale shivered. "Tell the nice demon who you belong to, angel."

"You, Master Crowley," Aziraphale said, and he couldn't tell why he was panting.

"Cute trick," the demon said dismissively, but it didn't cover up his envy.

"Let me make something perfectly clear," Crowley said, loud enough to make it obvious that he wanted to be overheard. "This angel is mine by right, and I'm going to enjoy that to the fullest extent afforded to me." He tightened his hand, and Aziraphale gasped. "And when I'm done using every square inch of his body, when he's completely spent, you're still not going to get a taste. This one belongs to me, and don't you ever fucking forget it."

Forget Hellfire; Aziraphale was going to turn to ash from the heat of Crowley's words, the feeling of Crowley against him. He wanted it desperately and with a force that almost undid him, to be Crowley's and be taken wholly. Crowley could do anything right now, and Aziraphale would have to let him; it felt perfectly okay, as long as Crowley kept him safe.

"Fine," the demon said, rolling his eyes. "You don't have to be a prick about it."

"I'm just trying to be crystal clear," Crowley said, kissing Aziraphale's neck before letting go. "Come along, angel."

Crowley steered him out of the room and down the hallway, his hands on Aziraphale the whole time. Aziraphale just knew Crowley was going to take him to some dark corner and fuck him within an inch of his life, and God help him, Aziraphale was going to let him.

"I am so sorry," Crowley said fervently, and Aziraphale frowned in confusion. Thankfully, he didn't speak up in time to cut Crowley off. "I hope you know I'd never treat you like that."

"Ah," Aziraphale said, feeling deeply disappointed for a moment before he pulled himself back together. "I'm trusting you with my virtue," he said, because it clearly wasn't safe in Aziraphale's hands.

Crowley snorted. "Not long now," he said. "Let's just keep our heads down and get back up there."

\--

And so it was that Aziraphale found himself riding out with the forces of Hell. It wasn't as impressive as it would be at the End; the army mustered was no different from a modest human one in size. They emerged in what had been a village, and Aziraphale felt a deep heartache for the humans who once lived in it.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, because a group of angels were riding towards them, banners flying. Crowley rallied his troops with a mighty shout and sent them forwards, effusively enough that no one noticed that he wasn't going with them.

When the fighting had been enjoined, a good distance away from the two of them, Crowley jumped off his steed. "I need a guy who's almost dead but not quite," Crowley said, looking around.

"What about that one?" Aziraphale said, pointing.

"That'll work," Crowley said. He stretched out his hand, and the man's features and dress changed to those of Crowley; the difference was that he had a huge gash up his back, with a burn pattern to it that suggested a stroke from a flaming blade. With that, Crowley waved his hand and vanished.

"Okay, that's my bit sorted," Crowley said from nowhere; his saddle moved as he mounted again. "Now make a scene over my body and let's get out of here."

"Am I supposed to be relieved or upset?" Aziraphale said.

"Follow your bliss," Crowley said.

Aziraphale spat on not-Crowley, saying a few choice words before making like he was going to steal Crowley's horse; he was, in a sense, though he was going to be stealing it with Crowley.

Unfortunately, he didn't get too far before his path was blocked by a demon, the same one who'd given him trouble earlier. "You think you're going somewhere, do you, little angel?" the demon sneered. He laughed, a disgusting sound. "Crawly's not here to protect you now."

Aziraphale held out his hands, and the biggest battle axe he could imagine appeared in them. He squeezed it tighter; a line of righteous, holy flame licked up the blade, to Aziraphale's deep satisfaction.

The demon stopped laughing.

\--

In the end, the skirmishing only went on for two days before Gabriel rode in with a peace agreement, none of this having been in the Plan. From what Aziraphale learned later, Hell destroyed a few of their own in recompense and put new leadership in charge, headed by Beelzebub, and everyone agreed that the mortals would remember nothing and they would all never discuss it again. Not many angels had been destroyed, after all, and they'd taken a few demons with them, so there was little harm done.

Crowley and Aziraphale were well on their way to Moscow when they were recalled. Despite his efforts, Crowley slipped into the woodwork and got off scot free; for his efforts, Aziraphale got a commendation. 

"Really great work down there," Gabriel said. "And you managed to get through all of that unsullied by a demon. I'm impressed."

"Unsullied," Aziraphale said. "Yes. Quite."

"We've agreed not to destroy the demon Crowley," Gabriel said, "but if _you_ found a way to do it-"

"I'll just watch him, shall I?" Aziraphale said, internally crossing his fingers for luck. "Make sure he doesn't try anything funny again."

"Your call," Gabriel said, raising his hands. "You're a better judge of what he's capable of."

"I am," Aziraphale said, and that was that.

Aziraphale and Crowley didn't talk about it for another seven hundred years.

\--

"You know what I am glad for?" Aziraphale said, from his place on the couch, which was leaning heavily on the side of it with Crowley's legs in his lap. They were opining about the end of the world that didn't come, which was a thing they did when they were drunk now. "I am glad you never have to go back to Hell."

"You and me both, angel," Crowley said.

"I hated Hell, both times," Aziraphale said, and there was a lightness to finally naming it. "It's awful. I had to throw out all my clothes because of the smell."

"I am so sorry I put you through that- the first one, I mean," Crowley said earnestly. "You must have hated me so much for it. I hate that I did it. There had to have been a safer plan."

"I don't hate you," Aziraphale said, and eight glasses of wine added, "I didn't hate everything."

"What?" Crowley said, looking at him in confusion.

"When you were acting all-" Aziraphale said, making a circular motion with his hand while he tried to come up with a word.

"Butch?" Crowley offered.

"Possessive," Aziraphale said instead. "I really didn't hate that part."

"You're drunk," Crowley said.

Aziraphale felt offended by Crowley's lack of reaction to what had been a big revelation. "I might be drunk, but I'm not a liar."

"Sober Aziraphale would be mortified if he heard you talking like this," Crowley said.

Aziraphale made a rude noise. "Sober Aziraphale doesn't know what's good for him."

"You are shithoused," Crowley said, and it almost sounded affectionate. 

"I don't even know what that means," Aziraphale said.

"I'm going to have a chat with Sober Aziraphale about this, just to see the look on his face," Crowley said.

"Tell him I said to get his head out of his ass," Aziraphale said.

"Oooh, the angel said a swear," Crowley said childishly.

Aziraphale sighed. "I'd swear more if you didn't always react like that."

"You'll have forgotten about all this in the morning, and Sober Aziraphale will deny the whole thing," Crowley said, with maddening certainty.

"Fine," Aziraphale said, pushing Crowley's legs out of his lap. "If you want to talk to Sober Aziraphale so much, here he is." He got unsteadily to his feet and forced the alcohol from his system. The instant it was gone, he regretted sobering up more than words could express. "Oh God, why did I do that?"

"Hang on, I'm gonna get Sober Crowley on the line. Drunk Crowley can't handle this," Crowley said, sobering himself up. He made a face, probably at the taste in his mouth. "Eugh."

"I'd say we should just not speak of this, but I don't think this particular genie can be put back in the bottle," Aziraphale said.

"We didn't speak about it for seven hundred years, and look where it got us," Crowley said. Aziraphale couldn't help but notice that even sober, he didn't seem concerned; then again, that was Crowley's whole thing, bad at it though he was. "What did you want me to do?"

"At the time? Get me the hell out of Hell," Aziraphale said. "When I thought about it later-" He wrung his hands. "I- I am glad nothing happened and I wouldn't have wanted it to, but-"

"You guiltily jerked off thinking about it?" Crowley supplied. 

"Um," Aziraphale said, feeling uncomfortably exposed. "Yes."

Crowley made an expansive gesture. "Who among us has not guiltily jerked off about something."

"You're not mad?" Aziraphale said gingerly. 

"Why would I be mad?" Crowley said.

"It paints you in a horrible light," Aziraphale said, unsure why he needed to explain.

"It paints me as a demon, which is a fair cop," Crowley corrected.

"But you hated it," Aziraphale protested.

"I did hate it, because I did an awful thing to you that could have gotten us both destroyed," Crowley said frankly. "That doesn't mean I'm traumatized by it, and it doesn't mean it's something I couldn't fool around with for a little sexy fun."

"Wait, what?" Aziraphale said, taken aback. The idea of sex with Crowley wasn't the problem, since they'd been having sex since that night at Crowley's flat after the end didn't come; it was the rest of it that threw Aziraphale.

Crowley frowned. "I thought that's where we were going," he said. "Me playing the big bad demon in bed."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, feeling almost breathless from the punch of desire that hit him low in his belly.

"I figure I could kidnap you a little, with some light subjugation," Crowley said, "and force you to-"

"It's not about being forced," Aziraphale cut in. "It's about not having a choice except to do it."

"Don't see how that's different, but okay," Crowley said.

"I don't want you to lay your hands on me and make me-" Aziraphale let the pause speak for itself. "I don't think you want that either."

"Ahh, okay," Crowley said. "So coercion, but none of the physical stuff." Aziraphale nodded, relieved. "And a lot of dialogue?"

"Oh yes," Aziraphale said.

"How you're mine and I'm gonna do a bunch of bad things to you, yeah?" Crowley said.

Aziraphale remembered Crowley's tongue against his neck and shuddered. "Yes, please."

"We can't do it here," Crowley said, looking around critically. "Demons don't corrupt people in bookshops." Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, they don't imprison helpless angels in bookshops. My flat has more of the right vibe."

"When?" Aziraphale said, because there was no turning back now, no putting it back in the box where it had been for seven hundred years.

"Give me some time to prepare," Crowley said. "I need to limber up the demonic muscles."

"It might be best if you didn't tell me," Aziraphale said hesitantly.

"What, just spring it on you?" Crowley said. "You sure you want to agree to that?"

"If I don't want it, I'll just say so," Aziraphale said. "You'll know the difference."

Crowley held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. Instead of shaking, Crowley pulled him forward, kissing him. "Don't worry, angel," Crowley said. "It'll be everything you need it to be."

\--

Aziraphale maybe spent the next two weeks walking through more alleys than was strictly necessary; Crowley couldn't well abduct him off a busy street in front of the shop. He would need to catch Aziraphale alone, so Aziraphale needed to be alone. This was easier said than done in the middle of London, but Aziraphale tried to at least make an attempt.

So by the time it happened, Aziraphale was, naturally, a bundle of nerves.

He was in the alley directly next to the bookshop when it happened. He couldn't say whether he walked past his captor and didn't notice him, or whether his captor ran up from behind, but quite suddenly, strong arms were wrapped around him. For a moment he almost fought back, but he could tell who it was. Crowley, unlike the scent of Hell that Aziraphale could still readily remember, did not smell like brimstone; he actually smelled like leather and patchouli, but in a good way.

"If you come quietly, no one gets hurt," he hissed into Aziraphale's ear. "If you don't, imagine what I'll have to do to all these witnesses."

Crowley didn't give him a chance to respond before they were both pulled away, reappearing in Crowley's flat. Crowley had moved things around; his desk was missing, his usual chair alone in his front room. He'd gone so far as to put up appropriate banners on the wall; they were black, with a red snake motif, and they really added to the ambiance. It was much cleaner than Hell, which Aziraphale vastly preferred.

None of this analysis was making Aziraphale's heart beat any slower.

Crowley let him go, pushing him forward. "Why have you brought me here, demon?" Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley didn't respond, stalking over to his chair and draping himself over it. "That won't do," Crowley said, his eyes flicking up and down Aziraphale's body. "You look like an upstanding principality, not what you are now."

"And what is that?" Aziraphale said, as haughtily as possible, under the circumstances. 

Crowley snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale's clothing changed; he looked down at himself, and he was wearing all black, the fabric hugging his body in an unfamiliar way. He reached for his throat, feeling the thick leather collar that encircled it.

"My sole property," Crowley said. He raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to open that door and let every demon in Hell have a piece of you. Not that you'd last long enough."

"What would you have me do?" Aziraphale asked, trying to sound like he was opening a negotiation.

"Everything I say," Crowley said. He pointed to the floor, in front of his chair. "On your knees."

"Preposterous," Aziraphale said.

"It's adorable that you think you have the option of refusing me," Crowley said, smiling unpleasantly. "The only choices you have are me and destruction, in the worst way possible."

Aziraphale carefully and deliberately walked over, standing in front of Crowley. "I'm going to get out of here," he said.

"You're really not," Crowley drawled. His voice had a kind of patient menace in it, and it was working better for Aziraphale than he'd even thought it would. "I said to get on your knees."

Aziraphale gave him a defiant look, but he sunk to his knees, looking up at Crowley.

"Let's discuss a few rules," Crowley said. "You will address me as 'Master Crowley,' and you will do exactly what I tell you to do." He waved a hand. "That's all. I don't care if you fight back, if that makes you feel better." Aziraphale said nothing. "No rejoinder? No pithy comeback? This will be easier than I thought."

"I'll never serve you," Aziraphale said.

"Too bad," Crowley said. "You already are." He undid the button on his fly, dragging his zipper slowly down. "Just remember, it's me or destruction. Surely I must be better than annihilation, even if I am a touch demanding."

Crowley pushed his clothing down far enough to pull out his cock, and Aziraphale didn't touch it, didn't move any closer. "You need to get to work," Crowley said, stroking his cock. "I don't tolerate laziness." Aziraphale still didn't move. Crowley leaned down, staring straight into Aziraphale's eyes. "Are you going to make me hurt you already?"

"No, Master Crowley," Aziraphale said, feeling afraid and turned on at the same time; there was some kind of alchemy to it, the mixture of them stronger than the sum of its parts.

"Then I suggest you stop stalling and do as you're told," Crowley said.

Aziraphale looked up at him, defiance on his face, and took Crowley's cock into his mouth. He didn't break eye contact, staring Crowley down as he took more, sucking intently.

"I hope you don't think you look intimidating," Crowley said. He wasn't touching Aziraphale, hadn't since he'd dragged him in. "You can give me murder eyes if you want, but you're still servicing me, which you don't seem to mind doing."

Aziraphale made a noise of negation, but he didn't stop. He was already too far in; he loved doing this for Crowley, the way Crowley felt on his tongue, and the whole scenario was already getting to him. His cock strained against the tight trousers that Crowley had put him in, so much so that it hurt.

"You're good at that, angel," Crowley said. "I would have snapped you up ages ago if I'd known how much you love to suck cock." Aziraphale flashed his eyes up at him again, but Crowley only smirked. "I don't judge," Crowley said. "I just compliment talent where I see it."

Aziraphale kept sucking, moving his head, not sure if he wanted this to be over quickly or for Crowley to draw it out, keep him there until his jaw hurt. He knew this couldn't be all of it; they didn't come all this way for a quick blowjob, even one that was supposed to be under duress. He still kept going; he was getting a little lost in it now, both the fantasy and how Crowley felt in his mouth, so satisfying even now.

"Enough," Crowley said, pushing Aziraphale away. Aziraphale swayed, feeling off-center yet so tuned in, like there was nothing in the world outside this. "Into my lap. Face away."

"Surely we can compromise," Aziraphale said.

"Bargaining," Crowley said. "They don't usually move through the steps so quickly, I'm told."

"Why don't I just finish you with my mouth, and then you can let me go?" Aziraphale said.

"You're going to do the first part of that plenty of times," Crowley said. "The second part isn't happening. You'll be happy to hear that I've changed my mind about your destruction. No one else gets to lay a finger on you but me, no matter how much you struggle."

"Please, we can talk about this," Aziraphale said.

"Imagine what I'll have to do to you if you don't do what I want," Crowley said. He reached out, running the backs of his fingers gently down Aziraphale's cheek. "What a shame it would be if I had to do something to your pretty face."

Aziraphale stood up, looking down at Crowley; Crowley looked so completely unconcerned, doing splendidly in his role, and it made something in Aziraphale ease just the slightest bit. Then Crowley palmed Aziraphale's cock through his trousers, and it ratcheted right back up again.

"I knew you'd like this," Crowley said, and Aziraphale bit his lip to keep the sound in. Crowley took his hand away, and suddenly Aziraphale's clothes were gone completely. "Stop stalling and climb on."

The chair seemed wider than it had been previously; Aziraphale fit onto it with him, his knees on either side of Crowley's thighs. There was nowhere to go in that position, Crowley right there, and for a genuinely scary moment Aziraphale thought Crowley might just shove into him, take what he wanted immediately.

He couldn't say whether he liked what happened more. Crowley put a hand at the base of his spine, stroking his skin, and Aziraphale was ready just like that, feeling wet and stretched and empty. It was so deliciously wrong, a violation but one that made Aziraphale want to roll over and beg.

"Much better," Crowley said, putting a hand on Aziraphale's hip and guiding him down. He slipped in easy as breathing, and Aziraphale groaned, relishing the feeling of it. His hips worked without him, grinding against Crowley for a moment before he marshaled himself.

Aziraphale wasn't expecting for Crowley to wrap his arms around him, pulling him flush against Crowley's body almost full length. "Nobody ever said you had to hate it, little angel," Crowley whispered into his ear. "If you just give in, I can make it so good for you. You can stay by my side and be my pet. I'll protect you from all of this." Aziraphale gasped as Crowley took hold of his cock, stroking it quickly. "Just give up, and you can have whatever you want."

Aziraphale just couldn't help it; he couldn't tell up from down anymore, couldn't separate the real and the fantasy. All he knew was what his body was saying, so when Crowley let him go, he did what it told him to, riding Crowley's cock.

"That's it," Crowley said. "Doesn't that feel nice? Look what you can have if you just let yourself have it." Aziraphale couldn't respond, couldn't do anything but keep moving. "What a good little angelic slut."

Aziraphale gasped. Part of him wanted to protest vociferously, demand Crowley apologize; the part of him that was louder and burning up from the fantasy wanted to hear it another hundred times.

"My toy liked that," Crowley said, in an all too knowing voice. "How did you ever last in Heaven when you needed to get fucked so badly? You're much better off with me, dear. I'm going to treat you exactly how you deserve." His breath was hot on Aziraphale's skin. "You've always belonged with me."

"Yes, Master Crowley," Aziraphale moaned.

"So eager to please," Crowley said, thrusting up to meet him. "You're going to have as much as you can handle, and you're going to love every moment of it. I'm going to use you until you're used up."

Aziraphale couldn't articulate what he wanted to say, which was that for Crowley, Aziraphale's body was only ever going to be a renewable resource. "Use me, master," he said instead.

"You can be assured of that," Crowley said. "Touch yourself. Get yourself off for me, darling."

Aziraphale couldn't have refused if he tried; he grasped his cock immediately, stroking it fast and tight. He was so unbearably close, instants away, needing it more than anything he'd ever needed in his life. Crowley bit down on his shoulder, sucking hard, and something about the pain pushed him over, left him shooting onto his stomach, his chest. He stuttered to a halt as it passed over him, and Crowley didn't try to move him, just left kisses all over his back and held him.

Suddenly Aziraphale was on the floor again, and he looked up at Crowley for explanation. "On your knees," Crowley said, stroking his cock quickly, and Aziraphale didn't need to be told what was going to happen.

Aziraphale moved into position; this was the sort of thing he would never allow someone to do to him on a normal day, but this day was so far beyond normal. Aziraphale the captive principality would in fact allow this to happen, he'd have to, so Aziraphale shut his eyes and opened his mouth. Crowley made a noise like he was shocked, and almost no time passed before he was coming, ropes of white on Aziraphale's skin, his lips, his tongue.

Aziraphale felt like he wasn't even in his body anymore; he just licked his lips and knelt there, floating in a way that he didn't quite have words for. He made a noise of surprise as Crowley scooped him up, carrying him bridal style into the bedroom and depositing him on the bed. Crowley joined him right away, and Aziraphale noticed he'd done away with his clothes. It didn't feel urgent, being naked together; it just felt nice.

The mess on his face and stomach was starting to be uncomfortable, so Aziraphale waved it away; he'd still know it was there, which was fine. Crowley wasn't paying attention. He was too busy gathering up Aziraphale in his arms, Aziraphale's back to his front; he curled himself around Aziraphale, his face in Aziraphale's hair, holding him fast.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed.

"I'm here, angel," he said, lacing their fingers together. "How are you holding up?"

"That was _wonderful_ ," Aziraphale said. "It was everything I wanted." Crowley relaxed against him. "Didn't you like it?"

"I only care about you," Crowley said. Aziraphale nudged him with an elbow. "Oh, alright, if you must know, it was so hot I didn't even know what to do with myself."

"You did very well," Aziraphale assured him. "The verisimilitude was excellent, with judicious use of editing."

"Only you would say something like that at a time like this," Crowley said.

"I'm just being honest," Aziraphale said, and Crowley kissed the top of his head. "However, I don't remember any collars in Hell."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Crowley said shiftily. "Actually, I saw that in some very tasteful images on this website that came up when I was looking for something else-"

"I get the idea," Aziraphale said. He squeezed Crowley's hand. "I didn't mind."

There was a comfortable silence for a while, and Aziraphale let himself drift. Crowley kept tracing his thumb over the back of Aziraphale's hand, the motion absent but somehow soothing.

"I don't think you're a slut," Crowley said. "I do think you belong with me."

Aziraphale smiled. "You'd rather I thought you were a slut, but I also think you belong with me."

"I'm okay with that," Crowley said. Aziraphale turned in his arms, kissing Crowley sweetly, his hand stroking over Crowley's hair.

And it didn't take seven hundred years or eight glasses of wine before it came up again, but neither of them seemed to mind.


End file.
